Not for Long
by storyteller629
Summary: He was determined to declare his intentions, but luck was not on his side. End of S2, not S3 compliant.
1. Chapter 1

He was unsure what to do, so he quietly moved down the stairs to give himself some distance. He paced the bottom of the stairs. He knew Elizabeth cared for him. Knew she loved him, even. But the promises Charles could make to her, the things he could provide. Mr. Thatcher's words rung in his ears. While he knew Elizabeth could well make up her own mind, the insecurities flooded back. He was trying to decide whether to stay or go when he heard fast footfalls and the door slam. Jack did his best to try and appear as though he was just happening upon the scene, though he quickly realized it didn't matter much what he did.

"...practically betrothed," he heard Charles mutter as he began a hasty descent of the steps. His eyes were focused ahead of him. "She knows this is no place for a Thatcher…" Jack couldn't hear the rest of his words, but heard the word "Mountie" spit from the man's lips as he hit the ground. Jack looked up again at the door, but Elizabeth was not giving chase. He sighed, letting some of the tension in his chest dissipate. Jack was now facing the stairs, about five feet to the side.

He knew he was out of eye line. Knew he could probably let Charles go and the man would be none the wiser to his presence. He could do that. It would probably be more noble to do that. But he thought of their words in Hamilton. Thought of the kiss by the stagecoach. He took a step as though he'd just sauntered up.

"Charles," he stated. He didn't want it to seem like he was put off by the man's presence.

The man whirled to face him. "Jack?" he said, his voice sounding a mixture of surprise and disgust. It was then that Jack noted a red blotch on the side of his cheek. The same cheek he'd seen kissed. His confidence surged.

"Didn't know we were expecting another visit to Hope Valley so soon," Jack continued, forcing his voice to stay even and his facial expressions flat.

"I came to see Elizabeth," the man said, his arms crossed in front of him like a petulant child. Jack confidently put his hands in his pants pockets, as he attempted to convey confidence. He flinched a little when his right hand stopped short as it collided with the small box in his pocket. He hoped Charles hadn't noticed.

"Is that right? Will you be staying long?"

There was clearly rage in the man's eyes. For a moment it made Jack worried for Elizabeth. Was she alright? "I'll be leaving tomorrow," the man spat out and turned on his heel, quickly moving away a string of word on his breath. He started to walk away, and Jack moved toward the stairs.

Jack paused when he heard Charles. "She's going to regret this."

Now it was Jack's turn to turn around. "Was that a threat?" He took two steps towards the man.

"Just the truth," Charles replied coldly. "Maybe not now, but she'll wake up one day and realize the life she could've had." Jack shook his head and turned back to the stairs. "She's a Thatcher!" Charles yelled by way of explanation as Jack took the stairs two at a time.

"Not for long," he muttered under his breath as he reached the top of the steps. He took a deep breath on the porch and realized his hands were balled in fists. He unfolded them and wiped them down the front of his pants. He hesitated before he reached for the door. Out of respect, Jack knocked softly. He counted to three in his head, and when there was no response, he quickly pulled on the handle.

"Elizabeth!" he called. She was at her desk, staring off. When she heard his voice, she looked up. Her eyes were red rimmed, her face red and blotchy.

"Jack!" she exclaimed. She wiped her face, smoothed her hair, and her cheeks blossomed to a brighter red.

"Elizabeth," he repeated as he tried to read the situation. He stayed by the door. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she replied as she tried to take a deep breath. "Oh Jack," she said as tears filled her eyes. Her hands shook as she wiped them away. He went to her. She stood as he came near her. He faced her and braced her at the elbows. He tried to assess her from head to toe.

"Did he hurt you? Harm you? Did he…?" Jack swallowed before he could finish that thought.

"What? I'm fine, I'm fine" she replied with a watery chuckle. "It was Charles, he came to see me. To-"

"I know," Jack said, cutting her off. "I just passed him. You're sure you're alright?"

She took another deep breath and swallowed. She took a half step back, breaking the contact between them. "He came to propose, Jack. He told me he couldn't stop thinking of me since I was last in Hamilton." Now it was Jack's turn to swallow hard. He obviously knew how the proposal turned out, but he hadn't expected this reaction.

"I, uh…" Jack trailed off, his hand on the back of his neck. He wanted to take her in his arms, reconfirm their love. Promise her forever. He won't propose. Not now, when she's so clearly shaken.

"I said no, obviously," Elizabeth clarified. "I told him I'm not leaving Hope Valley." She paused and took his hands. "I'm not leaving you." There was another pause as she caught his eyes in hers. His thoughts whirled. He had many more questions, but looking into her eyes, being this close to her, he couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth raise in relief. His smile grew bigger as hers mirrored his. He pulled her towards him to wrap his arms around her. He breathed in deeply as her head snuggled into his chest and her arms wrapped around his waist.

"It's alright," Jack murmured into her hair. "I have a feeling your rejection will have a lasting effect."

"I suppose the slap that accompanied it did put a certain punctuation on my refusal." She said into his chest with a slight chuckle.

Jack lifted her chin up to look at her. "He wasn't-"

"No, no," she assured, answering the question he didn't want to finish. "His reaction to my answer was rude, vulgar, and insulting. I shouldn't have, but I lost my temper."

"Why, Miss Thatcher, I'm surprised. But I'm sure your reaction was appropriate."

She nuzzled back into his arms and he placed a kiss to the top of her head. They stood for a while.

Elizabeth finally pulled back. "I'm sorry if I've messed your suit. I might well have ruined our date as well. But you should know that you look very handsome." Jack gave a bashful smile, suddenly very aware of the box in his pocket.

"Our date changing course can hardly be blamed on you. But if you'd do me the honor of escorting me on a walk around the lake, I'd be mighty pleased." He held out an elbow for her to take.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes with a smile. "Well, if it would _mightily please_ you," she said as she took his arm. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Jack, for what you did just now." His confusion must've shown on his face, for she continued on, "I know Charles has been a difficult topic between us. I worried after he left that you'd think I wasn't firm with him when I previously told him our love was not and would not be anything more than platonic. I think he knew when he saw me that I was not going to accept. In fact, based on what he said after my response, he may have known all along. Thinking about it now, the ideas seemed rather rehearsed, but the language was clearly embellished by my firm response."

He waited until he was sure she'd finished, then placed a kiss to her temple. "Elizabeth, I love you. You've said the same to me, and I know enough to know that you honor your word. I'll confess, seeing Charles heading out of this school house did cause some panic. I suspect there will always be a part of me that worries about the life you could have in Hamilton. That's my cross to bear because I know what you've said, and I trust your word." He used his free hand to squeeze the hand that rested on his forearm.

"I do love you Jack Thornton. And I will never let you stop believing that Hope Valley, with you, is my home." She piled her free hand on top of his as they made their way out of the schoolhouse.

He knew he'd find another time to propose. Now he just needed a new plan. And maybe the green suit next time.


	2. Chapter 2

If anyone can believe it, his second attempt at a proposal went even less to plan than the first.

Jack woke up that morning feeling out of sorts. He'd cleared his schedule so as to put his plan into action. An early dinner at the mine – the place that was theirs, now that Charles had ruined the schoolhouse for them- followed by a perfect view of the sunset and plans to watch the eclipse Elizabeth had talked about earlier in the week. He'd collected lanterns to create the mood, and conspired with Abigail to keep Elizabeth busy while he prepared the night.

Getting ready for the day, Jack had to forgo his usual grooming routine. His skin felt like sandpaper, and the idea of running a straight razor up his neck struck him as excruciating. He headed to the café as planned, though his gait felt heavy, as though the street were made of thick mud, not hardened, dusty, clay.

Abigail was the first to see him. "Jack," she exclaimed, her voice lined with surprise. "Are you alright?"

He thought her voice sounded further away than it should for the distance between them, yet the sound of forks clinking against the diners' plates almost made him double over. While he might've confessed something wrong, he was a determined man. His plans would not go awry. "Good morning Abigail," he responded with a curt nod, in an attempt to not shift his equilibrium significantly. "Must've been too eager to sleep last night. I'm sure a cup of your coffee will make all the difference."

Abigail looked at him for a moment before speaking. "How about tea?" she countered as she led him to a table toward the back of the cafe. "Maybe some biscuits?" she inquired as he flopped into the chair. Jack nodded as he put his head in his hands. Abigail seemed to pause as though she was going to say something, but she was gone in an instant. He had no idea how long she'd been gone when she returned with a steaming cup of tea and a small plate of biscuits. They smelled divine, but his appetite was absent. Jack looked up at her with a grateful smile.

"Thank you," he said, the warm cup of tea cradled in his hands.

"Jack," she started, clearly still concerned, "are you sure you're alright? You look like you need the doctor. If we send a message now, he can be here by morning."

"No, no," he insisted. He was adamant about his plans. "I'm fine. I'm a bit ahead of schedule, so maybe I'll go try and catch some shut eye." Jack finished his tea, but left the biscuits. He trudged back down the street to the jail.

He felt like he'd just laid down when he heard her voice. Had there been knocking? His dreams were so vivid, he had no idea. He was supposed to pick her up from the cafe at three. Surely it wasn't yet three o'clock. He had still had to get the final touches from the general store, he had to prepare the meal.

Cold. He was cold. But the blankets felt wet; heavy, and suffocating. He'd crawled into bed fully dressed, save his boots. Now it felt like he was in a swim costume. Jack tried to get up, but he was unsuccessful. He heard the swishing of her skirts as she ran to him.

"Jack!" He opened his eyes enough to see Elizabeth's hands covering her mouth, then closed them quickly as the dim light filtering through the windows was too much for him.

"Is it three?" he feebly asked, paired with another attempt to rouse himself.

"Abigail sent me with some soup, she said you looked a bit under the weather this morning. It's just past noon."

Noon. He tried to calculate his time tables in his head. He'd been asleep more than four hours when he usually closed his eyes for no more than an hour. He had so much to do. The panic rose and it was enough to careen his body upward. It was enough to do it, but he was met with resistance as a force pushed down on his shoulder.

"Oh no no," she scolded. "You look terrible. You're not going anywhere."

"I'm alright," he protested, though the counter momentum of her hand forced him to sink back into his cot. "I've got to-"

"You've got to rest," she said, cutting him off. She was using her teacher voice. "I'll help you to sit up so we can get the soup into you, but then you are to rest for the remainder of the day." He knew her well enough not to argue. He was in no condition to verbally spar with her. "You stay put, I'll be back with supplies."

He slipped off again quickly after he heard the door close. He had no idea how much time had passed when he next woke. The room felt warmer, and Jack wasn't sure if she'd stoked the fire, or if it was her presence.

"Hi," Elizabeth said, her voice gentle. She was near his head, and he tried again to open his eyes. Her hair was now twisted up and she wore an apron. He looked to the stove and saw steam rising from a pot. "I brought some extra pillows to help you sit up. Let me help you."

He thought it was silly to need help sitting up. He thought that until he tried it himself. By the time she'd fluffed the pillows into place behind him, Jack was exhausted. When he was settled, Elizabeth put a hand on his cheek. It felt cool and soft on his clammy skin. "Oh, Jack!" she exclaimed. "You are burning up."

"I'm alright," he responded, however much he knew it to be a lie. "Just a touch of something. I'll be fine in a few hours." He could smell the soup now, and he wanted to distract her. "That soup smells delicious, and from here it looks like you have done quite the job at keeping it warm. Can I trouble you for some?"

He did his best to force down as much soup as possible, grateful that she mostly gave him just broth. When he was done, she took away some of the pillows and he slid down into his bed.

The next time passed in a blur. Cold cloths dabbed his face and around his head. Soft words of comfort to accompany them. An argument, "what will people think, Elizabeth?" "They can think what they'd like. I'm not leaving until the doctor sees him!" Cold metal on his chest accompanied by a gruff voice. More blankets piled high atop him. The cadence of Elizabeth's voice, wound in with a most vivid dream of a quest for buried treasure. Dreams of Elizabeth needing rescue and him coming through in the nick of time- or worse, the dreams turning to nightmares as he failed. Dreams of a life together, a homestead, bliss. More soft words in his ear, was she crying? A hand slipped into his, cool and soft, incomprehensible pleas from her lips. Another voice. "Please, Elizabeth, you must rest. If anything changes, I'll send someone for you." Still more cool cloths on his skin, wetting his lips. The time raced and dragged simultaneously.

When he opened his eyes, there was barely any light in the room. He looked to the stove and saw only embers. His head felt clear for the first time since he could remember. He felt drowned in perspiration, yet he was parched. He needed to get out of his clothes, out of his bed. Jack tried to assess the mountain of blankets piled on him. He didn't even remember owning as many quilts. He was still as he tried to determine how best to extricate himself when he heard a rhythmic breathing. He allowed his eyes to focus for a moment and saw Elizabeth near, her bottom half in a chair and her top half leaning across to the edge of his bed, her head cradled in her arms near his side. Jack gently snuck his hand from under the blankets, unable to resist running his fingers through her hair.

Elizabeth gave a start. "Jack!" Tears sprung to her eyes and she took his hand in hers, placing a kiss on his palm. He watched her cheeks redden at the impulsivity. "Are you alright? I must get the doctor. I must tell Abigail. Oh, Jack! We've been so worried!" He thought it odd that she wore different skirts than the ones he saw her in only a few hours ago, but maybe she'd assumed their plans had changed.

Jack tried to swallow so he could speak. He still felt trapped under the weight of the blankets. He needed to wash, that much he knew. His mouth was so dry, however, that his voice barely came out when he spoke. "Wait," he said as his voice cracked out. He signaled for a drink, and after much repositioning, the first sips of water were heavenly. He begged for more, but was told that he'd need clearance from the doctor, first.

Even so, the little bit of water rallied his spirits and reignited his plans. Jack glanced out the window and saw darkness. "The eclipse," he started, willing to forgo the rest of his plan. "Do you think it's ended yet?"

Elizabeth looked confused, as though he spoke gibberish. "Jack, the eclipse was four days ago. You've had a terrible fever for days. I wasn't sure you'd... I mean the doctor said that you might not…"

Jack suddenly understood, though he could hardly believe it. "I'm sorry," he apologized as her eyes fill with tears again. "I'm so sorry,Elizabeth," he repeated, unable to provide more. "I meant for us to see the eclipse together. I wanted it to be special."

She gave a small laugh. "There will be other eclipses in the future. But what's most important is that you are alright." Elizabeth gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll go wake the doctor, and Pastor Frank is asleep in the cell." She paused in response to his obvious confusion. "Some people thought it best to always have others around so as to not tarnish my reputation." Jack thought he saw an eye roll. "I'll send him in to help you, I imagine you'll want to change clothes. Don't worry about the bedsheets, I'll get you fresh ones and change them out before the doctor comes."

Jack melted back into the bed. He was tired, sure, but moreso, he was disheartened. Four days wasted in this bed and he was no closer to making Elizabeth his wife. From the sounds of it, he could've died without her knowing his full intentions. She'd clearly stood watch over him for most of the four days. He knew some of what he dreamed was the creation of his mind, but much of what he remembered had to be real. He needed something spectacular for her. To thank her for being his partner, for caring for him, for her vigilance. Jack ran a hand down his face and felt almost a week's worth of growth. First, he needed to wash and change clothes.

* * *

 _ **This was going to be a one shot with just the moments after Charles' proposal, but an idea struck me. For the record, Elizabeth was reading "Treasure Island" to him. My original idea was "The Velveteen Rabbit", but then I went and fact checked the publication date. Which is really too bad, because that would've been stinkin' cute.**_

 _ **I have at least one more chapter that wants to get out.**_


	3. Chapter 3

By his third attempt, Jack was more determined than ever.

He'd made a full recovery and returned to work. He'd mulled over his options while the ring sat in his top left desk drawer. He'd stopped carrying it with him even before his illness, worried that it would be lost or the surprise ruined. So the ring sat, in it's box, next to his father's pocketwatch, which Jack only wore on special occasions. Yet, since the placement of the ring, the drawer was opened more frequently than it ever had been before.

He could have used his second plan with a few modifications, but the idea felt stale to him. And he certainly did not want to bestow any more ill fate on them should it turn out that the powers that be were the ones to not approve of his proposal plans. Jack was not a superstitious man, but he knew enough not to tempt fate.

No, Jack wasn't quite sure yet how to go about asking Elizabeth to marry him, but he knew when. Her anniversary was fast approaching. A celebration since her arrival in Hope Valley. A time when there wasn't much hope at all. He thought back to their first meeting in the Saloon. He thought about his anger at the reassignment, his resentment towards her. Looking back, he had to chuckle. Hindsight being what it was, he knew now that what drove him mad in their first few meetings: her independence, her determination, her optimism- they were all the qualities that he loved most about her now.

He didn't know how, but he knew when.

Each time his plan started anew, his proposal got more elaborate. Not the setting and the atmosphere, though he supposed that'd been true thus far, but the actual proposal. What he imagined he would say. He pulled quotes from poetry, he planned to list all of her attributes, share all of his dreams for their future. In fact, his proposal had grown so long and intricate that it took most of his morning rounds to get through it, and that included his time at the livery tending to his horse. He knew he had to curate his monologue, lest she think him a ranting lunatic, or worse yet, fall asleep. He considered it a work in progress and continued his mental monologue during most free moments.

The date would be a Wednesday. It felt a bit unconventional, but he was satisfied. The date was the key to this particular plan. He considered recreating their first meeting, but in the end, it would just be the saloon, and that seemed paltry. He considered using Abigail's Cafe, but that didn't feel momentous enough either.

The day was quickly creeping up on him, and still he had no concrete ideas. Determined to plan it himself, he asked no one for assistance. Rosemary could be counted on for elaborate schemes, but not to keep his secret. Abigail was ever pragmatic and would tell him to follow his heart. No, it was best if Jack could do this on his own, he assured himself.

It was Saturday morning, shortly after Jack thought he had the wisps of a plan emerging that the first plumes of smoke were noticed at the edge of town. Everyone had commented on the dry winter and spring. People wondered if the wells would run dry. Though it was a Saturday, Jack made his abbreviated rounds. He was absorbed in his plans- he felt like he almost had a finger on them, when old man McCreery caught his attention.

"Jack!" the man exclaimed as he pointed over the Mountie's shoulder. "Did you see up by the old Johnson homestead? Must've been some squatters started a fire. I think it's heading towards the mill."

Jack turned his horse abruptly. Sure enough, large billows of smoke rose above the tree line along the hillside on the edge of town. What was once homes for some of the mine higher-ups were now mostly abandoned. Jack chased his fair share of squatters from there, and had even found a few less desirable characters recognizable by their Wanted posters. The idea that an unattended cigarette or sparking ember from a forgotten fire could have caused a massive wildfire was not implausible. Jack immediately sprang to action. He found Frank and sent him to the church to ring the bell and gather everyone. Jack then made his way to send telegrams to the neighboring towns asking for help. Training for Mounties on wildfires in these parts wasn't comprehensive. If they each happened on two in their career, it would be a surprise. But he remembered enough to know that the process was long and consumed manpower to maintain the blaze, so reinforcements were essential.

Given the dry seasons leading to this moment and the amount of available underbrush, Jack knew the fire could burn quickly and spread even faster. While the first priority was always to contain it, Jack wanted to do so with as little spread as possible. After all, this town now relied on lumber as its chief product. Too much of a hit to their raw material could jeopardize the finances of everyone in town. Not to mention the devastation that would occur if the mill were compromised.

Less than 30 minutes after the smoke was brought to his attention, Jack addressed the people of the town. The tension was high, but these were people who understood tragedy. They understood the need to come together and rally for the town. Jack divided all the male volunteers, and put Abigail in charge of the women who volunteered. The ladies set out to collect shovels, buckets, canteens, and rags for the men to dip in water and cover their faces. Jack used Elizabeth's chalkboard to explain his containment plan. They'd have to dig out a ring and saturate the outer portion so the fire could no longer spread. He split the men up into two shifts, noting that around the clock work would be more efficient. Some men guffawed at his plan, but he firmly reinforced it. He declared the Saloon and Cafe as headquarters for the operations. It was closer to the fire, and more resources were available. He'd telegraphed for the doctor, in case anyone was injured or inhaled too much smoke, and Jack reasoned having everything in town would be more efficient.

He dismissed the men with plans to meet by the cafe in 10 minutes. He wanted to give them a chance to say goodbye to their families. If there was one thing he'd learned when he first arrived, it was the amount of regret that was shared by those who didn't get that chance before the mine disaster.

He'd only just cleared the bottom of the stairs when he saw her running towards him. "Elizabeth!" he yelled, though it was clear that she'd fixed on him.

"Jack," she answered, her breath ragged. While Jack wanted to hold her close, calm the wild look in her eyes, one quick glance around them said there were far too many prying eyes, even in this time of franticness. Instead, he took her hands and a half step back, maintaining appropriate space between them.

"Be safe," she whispered, and he knew she was saying more. He knew they were both thinking of their time in the mine.

"Be brave," he whispered back while he squeezed her hand. She nodded as her eyes brimmed with tears. Perhaps it was an act of self preservation, or the feeling of too many watchful eyes, but she started to break away from him. He took one hand and quickly pressed the back of it to his lips. "Together," he stated firmly as he looked her in the eyes. A small smile crept to her face. She'd turned all the way around to head back to town when she estopped abruptly and faced him again.

Elizabeth pulled out a scrap of fabric from the tie around her waist. It was white linen and had a piece of lace attached. Her cheeks stained pink as she explained, "some of the women wanted their husband's rags to be special for them and I liked the idea." Jack felt his cheeks turn hot as he realized she must've pulled it from her petticoat. He quickly stowed the scrap of fabric in his pocket as he cast his eyebrows up at wanted to make some quick-witted remark, but the truth was, he was flabbergasted. He stumbled through a thank you instead.

Clearly satisfied by his reaction, Elizabeth smirked and headed back toward town.

It took five full days to contain the blaze and burn it out.. Dry winds on days three and four continued to cause flares that risked their containment barriers, but the winds brought a light rain the evening of the fourth night that finally worked in their favor. Reinforcements appeared sometime on Sunday, which helped progress immensely. They'd managed to lose only a few more acres than what was already burning when they arrived. Jack enforced his plan for the men to work in shifts around the clock, and sent them back to town regularly. They had few injuries, which he attributed to his men being rested. While Jack sent his men to town, he didn't go himself. He'd found an area to bed down that was outside of the danger zone, and caught short sleeps there, though he made sure to send word down to Elizabeth at the end of every shift regarding his safety. In return, Jack received a meal and canteen of fresh water at the start of each shift. He had no doubt that he knew who saw to that.

He kept her petticoat in his coat pocket, and used his handkerchief for the rag over his face. He only wore the coat when the night air chilled, so it was kept away from danger. The scrap of fabric no longer smelled of her. Like everything on the hillside, it had become inundated by the smell of smoke. Nonetheless, he ran the fabric through his fingers. When he was sure he was alone, he let his mind wander to the leg the petticoat protected, right up to just above the perfect knees he'd inspected.

It was late on Wednesday when he arrived back into town. His entire being smelled of soot and he was exhausted in all ways. They'd declared victory shortly before lunch, but Jack remained, ever the town watchman. Jack asked Lee to create a rotation of the men to watch over the area for the next 72 hours to be sure nothing could go awry. Jack wanted the men to celebrate, so he told Lee not to start the first rotation until after dinner. He sent one last message of safety down the hill with the exuberant men.

After days in the hilly underbrush, Jack sought comfort walking on the flat road into town. He'd only realized it was Wednesday when Lee came to relieve him. Since he started his descent, his mind and body warred. He'd chosen this day for the sentimentality, but after this ordeal, he was physically and mentally exhausted. The constant vigilance on the fire meant he'd never actually fostered a plan, so finding another day seemed the most rational idea. He could chalk it up to another failed attempt.

Jack walked down the deserted street by the Saloon, filled with raucous cheers and loud music. His eyes glanced to the dim lights in Abigail's Cafe and then to the jail. He knew he should show appreciation to Abigail, for what he was sure was yet another outstanding show of resilience, organization, and ingenuity. She must've been as exhausted as he was, though. Maybe he could thank her in the morning.

Just when Jack thought he made up his mind, he heard the jingle of the cafe doors and saw Elizabeth. Light seemed to radiate from her face. It wasn't just her face, it was her whole body, he realized. She launched off the sidewalk and straight for him. When he realized she would not slow, he braced himself. Despite his exhaustion, he felt like he could fly them both to the moon when she jumped to his arms. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her legs around his waist, and her head burrowed into his neck.

"You smell divine," he said as her hair fell in his face.

"You smell like smoke," she retorted and he chuckled.

"Marry me," he said before he realized the words were set to come out of his mouth. She stilled, and he wasn't sure if she'd really heard him. His stomach knotted. He may not have had a plan, but it surely was not this.


	4. Chapter 4

"Marry me," he repeated, this time with more confidence behind it. Despite his best efforts, it was like his brain and mouth had disconnected. The ring was still in the jail. He had nothing to give her. He didn't know what he'd even say.

There was an awkward moment while they were both lost to their thoughts. Elizabeth broke the stalemate first when she shifted her body weight. He gently placed her down, then took her hand as he kneeled before her.

"Elizabeth Thatcher, you came to this town two years ago and I may have loved you since I met you. I have wasted too much time and had too many failed attempts to declare my intentions towards you to not take this opportunity to ask you to be my wife." He looked down from her eyes to her left hand. He missed her nodding as he focused on her bare hand, his mouth suddenly dry. "I do have a ring," he started, "I just have to-"

She tugged on his hand and Jack looked up. She continued to nod, her eyes even brighter than before.

"Yes?" he asked, unsure of what he'd just said. He couldn't be sure if it was the exhaustion or the adrenaline.

"Yes!" Elizabeth yelled, her voice finally recovered. She pulled him by the lapels of his soot-stained serge into a kiss that made him feel like the most well rested man on the planet.

He suddenly felt exposed in the middle of the street. "Come on," he whispered as he took her hand and pulled her to the jail. At the front door, he stopped and assessed her. He was slightly embarrassed to see the smudges of soot that appeared on her face, her blouse, and her skirt. He would offer to clean them for her tomorrow. He gave her a quick but forceful kiss. "Wait here," he said.

Once inside, he immediately discarded his serge. Rip wandered in from the other room, his rest clearly disturbed. Jack quickly lit a lantern to help him see better. He moved to the mirror while he untucked his long undershirt and pulled it off. He caught a glimpse of his blackened face and neck in the reflection and immediately glanced down to the wash basin. Though he expected it to be dry, he found the pitcher filled and a clean cloth perched on the basin rim. He smiled. He couldn't be sure if Elizabeth or Abigail had made such a thoughtful gesture, but he appreciated it all the same. Jack quickly scrubbed his face and neck as he watched the water darken. He used some soap and scrubbed under his arms. His hair was a mess, but he poured some clean water from the pitcher over his head, while he used his free hand to try and scrub out some of the debris. He glanced at the mirror again. Satisfied that he was as presentable as a man who'd lived primitively while fighting a fire could be, Jack moved across the room to change clothes. He knew well enough that he couldn't eradicate the smoke smell entirely, but he could at least try. He put on new clothes, then set about collecting items from his small abode.

First, two blankets; one a quilt, the other woolen. Next, he grabbed a small crate. In that he added a bottle of wine confiscated from a smuggler, two jars, his sketchbook and pencil, and a small lantern. He piled the blankets on top of the crate so as not to ruin the surprise. He paused before he moved to the front of the jail. The plan came to him as she kissed him. More a vision than anything else, but more than he'd had before. Jack took a mental inventory. He grabbed matches for the lantern then moved to his desk. He quickly slipped the box out of the drawer, a smile plastered across his face. He was eager to get back to Elizabeth. On his way out the door, he took the lantern. Rip huffed back to bed.

Elizabeth paced just beyond the door. He saw her almost immediately, including the small excited jump she gave when she heard him. Her smile turned to confusion as she took in the items piled in his arms.

Jack kicked the door closed, then offered her the lantern and an elbow. "If you'll do me the honor of escorting me this evening," he asked as she took his offered arm.

"What's all this?" Elizabeth asked as she twisted around to glimpse at the crate. Jack wouldn't give her an answer. He continued down the sidewalk, then led them to the middle of the deserted street. They walked in silence, her arm wrapped around his, the lantern lighting their way. Every once in awhile, he looked down at her. Every time their eyes met, they both erupted in giggles, pure giddy energy passed between them.

When they'd arrived at his destination, Jack put the crate down. The frogs sang their evening lullaby while Jack spread the quilt out on the grass. While he couldn't see it, he knew the church stood on the other side of the water.

Elizabeth remained standing, the lantern still in her hands. They were quiet as he worked. Jack took the wool blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. The evening was mild, but he worried she'd chill. He took the lantern from her hand and placed it on the corner of the quilt, then led her to the blanket. The energy between them shifted in a way he couldn't explain. Was she nervous? Was he? He only needed to look into her eyes to feel grounded again.

"Join me?" Jack sunk to the blanket. When Elizabeth followed, Jack turned to the bottle in the crate, along with the jars. He fished his knife from his trouser pocket, then made quick work of opening the bottle. He handed her a jar and filled it before he poured some for himself.

Jack raised his glass. He tried to think of something to say that would mark the occasion, but his adrenaline clearly waned. "To us," he concluded with a chuckle. She giggled in agreement. They took a sip of the wine. The way her face and neck glowed in the light of the lantern caught his attention. He put the jar down and moved up to his knees while he reached in his pocket for the small box. He opened it, but felt even more nervous than before.

Elizabeth tentatively reached her left hand out, palm down. Jack slid the ring on. There was a moment of silence. Jack suddenly doubted his choice. "I-"

"It's perfect," she breathed, her eyes focused on the small gem as it shimmered in the light. She broke her gaze from her finger to look at him. They both leaned in and met in the middle. The kiss was even more passionate than their one in the street. Jack's hand tangled in her hair, his other moved to the small of her back to pull her body into his. She responded by slipping her arms around his neck, arching her back to press more firmly against him. They'd never been this close, and Jack could feel his hunger for her take hold as he kissed down her neck.

Though it pained him, Jack broke the kiss with a groan. "Are you alright," Elizabeth asked. He could only focus on her swollen lips as they glistened in the dancing light. Jack looked down and tried to remember why he stopped.

"I'm fine," he answered, but his breath still felt ragged. "I just…" he trailed off, then tried again when she leaned in again. "You are beautiful, you know that? And I am amazingly lucky. And as much as I don't want to, we should stop." She looked disappointed. "I'm not strong enough to let this continue and trust myself to remain in control," he finished. He longed for her, but he would not sully their reputations. Not in a town as small as Hope Valley, and not when their positions were as public as they were.

Elizabeth nodded slowly and gathered the discarded blanket around her. "Jack Thornton, sometimes I wish you weren't so noble." He wondered if he should be hurt by her statement. "But thank you," she added. Jack smiled in relief. "Would it be against your constitution to look at the stars?" Jack shook his head and turned down the lantern before he positioned himself on his back. He tucked one arm under his head and extended an arm for her to rest her head on. He let her point out stars and constellations, most of which he already knew from his navigation training. The cadence of her voice combined with the warmth of her body so near his pulled him toward sleep.

When he awoke, the first thing Jack noticed was how rested he felt. Content, though it took him a minute to place why. It was then he felt Elizabeth's head on his chest, her body curled into his, an arm draped across his torso, blanket around them both. For a moment, Jack startled. The lantern had burned out. He looked up to the sky, but based on the movement of the stars and the moon, only two or three hours had passed. Jack allowed his heart to calm. Elizabeth must have felt his body tense, which caused her to stir. He felt her arm stretch across his body, then she stilled as well.

"Shh," Jack murmured as he slipped his arm from under his head and smoothed her hair. "You're safe." Elizabeth craned her neck to look at him, smiled, then quickly resumed her position, her head nestled further into the blanket, a contented sigh escaped her lips. Jack smiled, fulfilled in a way he'd never thought possible as he gently combed his fingers through her hair.

He must've drifted off again, because suddenly he felt chilled. Jack stretched his arms over head as he opened his eyes. Elizabeth's silhouette was just distinguishable against the setting moon. The blanket wrapped tightly around her, she'd moved toward the crate, clearly curious to inspect the contents.

A small sound escaped Jack's lips as his stretch finished. Elizabeth scampered across the blanket and launched herself across him, her lips to his. Now she took her turn to explore his neck. She used a finger to pull aside his collar before she placed her warm lips on the spot where his neck and shoulder met. He felt fire and ice as her fingers brushed his skin, then fireworks as her lips followed- tentative at first, but more confident and hungry with every passing moment. His body shuddered while heat built in his belly. He tried to say her name, but was sure moans only emanated. Suddenly her ministrations stopped as she looked at him.

"Too much?" she questioned. He nodded in response as he attempted to regain his composure. The smile on her face told him she knew exactly the hold she had on him.

Jack let out a chuckle. "You are going to drive me mad, Elizabeth Thatcher. I can only hope our engagement is brief, because having you so close may be the most dangerous challenge I've faced." With that he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her body next to his while he wrapped his arms around her. Elizabeth laughed again. They stayed that way for some time.

"What else did you bring tonight?" Elizabeth inquired. He was sure she'd seen the remaining items in the crate. He thought about teasing her, but suddenly felt nervous. When he'd thrown his sketchbook in, he thought the two lanterns would throw enough light for a sketch. Now with one burned down and the small one in the crate, he knew he had to share his sketches with her.

Carefully, Jack sat up so as not to disturb her, but she sat as well. He first took the lantern from the crate and lit it. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the flare from the lantern. Jack reached for the sketchbook, then handed it to her without a word. Elizabeth gingerly took the book with a reproachful glance. He nodded in response while she scooted closer to the lantern.

Jack sat with one knee held to his chest as he watched her pour over the pictures. Her murmurs, gasps, and sighs loosened the tightness in his chest. He knew it wasn't his most polished work. He also knew that while the first few sketches were of the valley and town, the majority of the work was of a different subject.

From his spot, he could see she'd stopped on the sketch of her in the dress she'd worn on the night of their first dinner. He'd tried to remember every detail of the dress and the night: how the beading sparkled in the light, how the lace wrapped around her curves, how her hair cascaded down from the pins she'd artfully placed. "Oh Jack," she breathed as her fingers gently ran over the edge of the page. She turned the page and continued to investigate the contents. He knew some of the pictures to come: her hands tucked under her head while she slept in the train carriage on their first trip to Hamilton; her with Julie at the cafe, lost in gossip; her first solo ride, the horse midstride. Elizabeth smiled at the memory. There were unfinished sketches as well: those where he couldn't get the shine in her eyes or the turn of her nose right, one of her at the chalkboard, her hands frustratingly awkward as they gripped the eraser. A series of abandoned sketches of the town in the days he avoided his muse. The buildings felt flat and lifeless, the residents bored. Then a sketch of her with Rip, in the place he thought she'd surely recognize as the mine, her eyes filled with their sparkle.

He realized now that what he shared with her was a journal of sorts. While it didn't contain the eloquent prose he was sure hers did, he knew that there was definitely a story contained within the pages. A story of pining, devotion, and even frustration.

When she finished her examination of the last sketch in the pages, Elizabeth gently closed the book, placed it beside her, and leaned toward him. "Thank you," she whispered before she placed a series of light kisses on his lips. Jack felt the smile creep across his face. As though he needed further evidence that Elizabeth understood him and appreciated the man he was. Her reaction spoke volumes.

"I love you" he told her. He wasn't sure the words were enough.

"I love you, Jack Thornton," she responded.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of telling you that," Jack told her.

"I should hope not," she responded as her hands moved to the nape of his neck. After a few moments, she paused. "What would you draw tonight?" She went on hurriedly, "I mean, if you did draw something from tonight, not that I would expect you to…"

Jack gave a small chuckle. "You. Right now."

Elizabeth's hand flew to her hair. "Oh, no, I'm sure I look a fright."

"You look beautiful. And your hair looks just the way I hope to see it waking up next to you each morning." He knew his comment was forward, but it was also honest. She smiled and looked down, a gentle blush on her cheeks. He offered to sketch her and she complied.

They sat together mostly in silence while Jack worked. The light source was weak, so Jack had to fill some things in with what he knew of the face he'd sketched a thousand times. When he'd gotten her outline sketched in, he'd asked her to hold the jar to her lips with her left hand. The image allowed him to add the ring to her finger. He smiled as he drew it, it's features almost as memorized as the beautiful woman who modeled it.

In the end, he declared it not his best work, but he knew it would be a night they both remembered. Jack looked up to the horizon as the first wisps of gray stole the night sky. "We should get back before we start a rumor," he said as he tucked the pencil and sketchbook back into the crate. Elizabeth gave a resistant nod.

They walked back to town together hand in hand. They reached the back of the cafe just as the first hints of color glowed in the east. He promised her he'd be back for breakfast so they could tell Abigail together. He knew he wouldn't sleep in the short time, but he still worried about being caught in the cafe too early. He longed for a time when it wouldn't matter.

After their fourth goodbye kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers. "A quick engagement?" he asked.

"I think that can be arranged," she responded.

"Most of the town probably has the whole thing planned, anyway," he said with a chuckle. With one more kiss, he tore himself away. Though he could probably count the hours of sleep he'd gotten in the better part of the last week on both hands, he felt positively buoyant. She'd accepted his proposal, and would be his wife. They could start a life together and they wouldn't have to sneak around and steal moments. Not for long, at least.


End file.
